Skyrim Snapshot: The Bully
by Zura
Summary: A funny little story about something that actually happened in game and how I imagine the conversation going because of it. Starring my first character, the suspiciously pale Argonian called Verax. First of the "Whitescale" series.


"And whatever happens, make sure you absolutely, positively do not harm him. I don't want to hear of a death. That's not what we do."

I nodded respectfully and turned heel to leave Jorrvaskr. Walking down through the darkened paths of Whiterun I contemplate the task at hand. My status with the Companions is tenous at best as I've only just joined up. Failure for such a simple request would not bode well for me but I was confident everything would go according to plan.

Aranea Ienis is waiting for me with the horses and carriage. We had met long ago it seemed when I first arrived in Skyrim and on a rumor headed high into the mountains in search of the Shrine of Azura. What followed was a dangerous mission for the goddess that ended with me recovering her artifact and gaining a forever loyal follower in Aranea.

After the test the Companions laid out for I returned to Whiterun with knowledge of a where a veritable treasure trove of equipment lay. We rented a cart and brought along my housecarls to recover what we could from Dustman's Cairn. It had been a fruitful expedition and we would be pressing on to Riverwood that very night. Coming up to the small caravan I say, "Lydia, Jordis, we're ready."

"Aye, Thane." they respond almost in unison. I climb into Shadowmere's saddle and we ride out into the darkness ahead. Staying just in front of the carriage Aranea and I keep a lookout for trouble.

"Milord..." Aranea says suddenly over the clip-clop of the horses' hooves.

"Yes?"

"This...request we see to. Is it not...overly petty?"

"Of course not. The Companions can open doors for us no one else can. If they have need of me in Riverwood and we have steel to sell I see no reason not to kill many birds with one stone."

"I do not mean to question your wisdom, guardian. I merely wonder at the paths you take."

We ride quietly a moment as I think about this. Sometimes in my wayward journey I felt like I had been led precisely when and where I needed to be. It was a frightening thought that my will may not be my own. But if Fate truly determined every man's path then what use was there in personal choices? No, I could not believe every act I have done was preordained long ago.

I shift my attention to Riverwood. I can cut a fairly intimidating figure in my Thalmor garb with my Argonian snout protruding from the hood. The mere mention of elves was enough to get any Nord jumpy but it couldn't hurt to increase the effect with a little flair.

"Aranea, when we arrive in town ready Dawnbreaker." This was no mere trinket but a wicked blade with a brightly glowing gem in the center capable of leveling a room of undead. It was a gift from Meridia herself and would surely dazzle and amaze in the rustic setting of Riverwood.

"Yes, milord. Should I prepare your dagger as well?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I don't expect a fight. The blade should be enough to scare off the brute."

"Yes..." she said slowly.

"What is it?"

"May I speak freely?" she asked cautiously.

"How many dangers have we overcome? Enemies bested?" I replied. "You have earned the right to speak your mind without asking permission."

"Aye. Well...are you not the champion of Azura?" the priestess inquired.

"I am." I acknowledge.

"Yet you wield a terrible weapon gifted to you from Meridia."

"I do."

"Are you not fearful of Daedra conspiring against you for your free flowing loyalty?"

"That is for them to decide, my dear. I do not profess to be a pious soul. One such as I cannot claim to be free of the darkness. If I serve the light and the dark in equal measure then I cannot be blame for their vengeance. "

We ride in silence the rest of the night to Riverwood. As we pass into the valley the township sat in the sun began to break through the thick trees. I pull my cowl down a little farther in anticipation for the stinging sensation I am about to be feel over every inch of my body.

It is nearly midday as we reach Riverwood without incident. I am happy to hop down from the saddle and let Lydia lead the weary horses to the stable. "Unpack the silvers. He'll want to take a look at them." I say to Jordis. "When you are done take rest. I will be at the smithy."

Strolling through town I wave to the denizens I pass by. While I have come to know many of them it is the blacksmith I seek out first. He is hard at work as always but lights up when he sees me approach.

"Verax!" Alvor calls. "You scaly devil, when did you get in?"

"Just now." I say and the blacksmith nearly crushes my gloved hand in a far too strong shake.

"Good to see you my friend." he says jovially. "Come, let us sit. Or would you prefer to go inside?"

"Out here is fine." I say and take a seat on the same wooden stool I had first learned to craft on. "Missed this old forge. I've been working with Gray-Mane on the Skyforge."

"Ha! Truly? I was joking when I said to remember me when you were creating great blades on that forge."

"It was strangely prescient my friend." I agree. "I've put in a good word for you though. Any time you'd like to try your hand I can get you a time slot on it while Gray-Mane is away."

"Do you jest?" he breathed.

"Of course not." I smile as an Argonian does, with a pulling back of my lips to show the teeth. "The heat differential on it is incredible. I often wonder if it is Gray-Mane or the forge itself responsible for his wide renown."

"Haha! I like that. It has been many years since I last visited. Perhaps a vacation is in order." Alvor nodded.

"How's business been?"

"Busy." he said almost sadly. "I may have to send for my nephew in Whiterun."

"Not the worst idea ever. The more coin you move the easier it will be for me to offload merchandise."

"Aye, well, word's getting around that we do business. It's been something of a double edged blade."

"How so?" I ask in genuine curiosity.

"I've received requests for exclusive trade with both Empire and Stormcloak." he explained.

"That doesn't sound all that bad."

"Sigrid disagrees. I turned them down on each side but she thinks we're being too open. She fears that one day troops may come to my door for something other than friendly commerce."

The distant worry on the blacksmith's harsh features were all too apparent as he spoke. Alvor was a stubborn but intelligent Nord and I could see that the possibility of something untoward happening had occurred to him as well. "I have other vendors..." I offer.

"No, no, it'll be fine." he said and the momentary cloud over his head disappeared. "You know how she is. If nothing is going wrong she'll find something to worry about anyway."

"How's your little girl doing?" I change the subject.

"Good, good. She grows faster by the day it seems. Wants to start pounding steel but I keep telling her she's too little."

"Takes after her sire." I grin with my many teeth.

"Not if I can help it. All this gold is for when I'm too old to work the forge and to make sure she never has to." the craftsman promised.

"There's no shame in honest work, Alvor."

"Aye Verax, but it is not what I want for her. She could go to school and be educated."

"Mmm. That's good too." I concur.

"Of course she wants to be like you." the blacksmith beamed.

"Eh? Me?" I ask incredulously.

"A hero that knows his way around the forge better than his old teacher? She's angry she doesn't have a tail to better imitate you."

"I'm no hero." I shake my head.

"Come now Verax." he chided. "Have you not done much good for Whiterun? For Skyrim?"

"Good is a relative term my friend." I sigh.

"Are you not bestowed with titles of honor? Of good deeds?"

"I am." I nod. "The fanciest title changes not what I am or what I do."

He grew quiet for a moment before asking his next question. "Ah...how's your condition boy?"

"I have my bad days." I admit. "Others I forget it's there when I'm in the hills and trees."

"Did you talk to that man about a cure?"

"Yes." I lie. "Turns out it may be more may complicated than gathering herbs in the forest."

"Harumph."

"In the meantime, there are heavy advantages. Disadvantages too. For instance, I'm not wanting battle in midday anytime soon. Even in the shade it's quite itchy."

"The immortality can't hurt, either." Alvor said.

"No, but all creatures must end. It is the way of things. What if I were to return to Black Marsh to find no spawn who recognize me?" I wondered aloud.

"What happens if in time you lose yourself? Become like the ones you hunt?" he pressed.

"I have destroyed many of my brethren." I confess. "Even the one who gave me this curse. But their actions were as unjust as any human I'd encountered. Be they kin or sire to me their ends were righteous."

"You don't worry about it then?" he asked.

"I carry several artifacts gifted to me by the Daedra themselves. Should I fall fully into darkness I have no doubts a steel hearted adventurer would come for me bearing the stake and the torch."

"That's Ysmir's own truth." he agreed. "Now, let us speak of more pleasant things. Tonight you will be our honored guest at a feast."

"I look forward to it." I reply honestly. "I just have some business to attend to first."

"Hmm? Other than trade?"

"Word has reached Whiterun of Faendal the lout. I mean to remedy that."

"Ah him. A nuisance to goodly folk, that one. You mean to duel him?"

"By the Eight, no." I balk. "Just set him a little straighter with a demonstration of how keen my blades are."

"Well if anyone-"

"Quiet!" I interrupt. In the distance I hear the faint sound of a large bell being rung but that is not what I'm listening for.

"The sexton rings!" Alvor said. "I must get my arms-"

"No!" I exclaim. "Get Sigrid and Dorthe into the cellar, now!"

"But-" he started.

"Do it!" I shrieked with the Thu'um adding otherworldly bass to the sound of my voice. Alvor went pale but moved to do as he was told. My insides tighten up into a knot as I hear screams in the distance and can clearly make out the swooping sound of a massive creature. Running back the carriage I see Aranea looking to the sky.

"Aranea! Get me my longsword!" I yell forward.

"Milord!" she called back anxiously. "It is daytime!"

"No choice! Battle formation!"

I hear him circling overheard as I throw off my Thalmor robes and buckle into my best, most fire resistant armor. I know not if I can win in my debilitated condition out in the sunlight but we would soon find out shortly which one of us the gods loved more.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean he's dead!" Falken raged. "What did I tell you <em>not<em> to do!"

"If you'll let me explain-" I started.

"Explain how! You've done the exact opposite of what I asked!"

"There was-"

Behind me the door to Jarrvaskr burst open and a breathless young Nord came rushing in. "Ruh-ruh-" he panted.

"Delios, catch your breath boy." Falken said.

"Riverwood...dragon attack!" he got out.

"Talos' beard! What happened?"

"A...it fell on the town. There were casualties..."

"We will prepare immediately!" the Companion raised his voice.

"No, no, it's dead." the Nord said.

"Dead?" Falken said in dismay.

"An Argonian and his band brought it down. He suffered great wounds but the dragon's bones now decorate the village."

"An Argonian...did you see the battle?"

"Aye, a little. I...I was hiding mostly." the Nord was ashamed to say.

"This Argonian, did he wield an Elven blade?"

"Aye, a large one."

Falken quickly shifted his gaze to my expressionless features and then back to the messenger. "Yes, well, run along and tell the Jarl boy."

"Aye!" the youth said and left as quickly as he arrived.

Scratching the back of his head Falken worked his way to a sentence. "So...about Faendal..."

"The beast landed on him." I explained. "I scarcely arrived before it did."

"Slightly fortuitous, then." he said and I nearly blurted that fighting in the daytime was no good fortune at all. Managing to keep my wits about me I replied, "He won't be bothering the town again and the Companions had nothing to do with his death."

"Right. About what I was saying-"

"No apology necessary." I hold up a hand.

"Yes, well, how about we head to the Mare and see if a skinny, sickly Argonian can hold his mead better than a real man?"

I toyed with the idea of declining but as was usually the case I had recently, and narrowly, escaped death. What the hell, I'd earned it. "Why don't we make it interesting you pudgy Nord wine sack. You win and keep my pay. I win, you double it and pick up our tab." I challenged.

"You'll rue the day, scalescum!" Falken roared.

"Aranea!" I called. "Fetch me my drinking garments! Be prepared to wash Nord humility from them!"

Off in the distance and outside the city a Whiterun guard wrapped himself in a wool blanket to keep out the cold. There was a sound that came from far off which may have been wings beating so he sat upright, alert. Straining to listen he did not hear anything else. Convinced it was just nerves and all the talk of dragons across the land he settled back down and did not see the enormous shadow lurking in the darkness ahead.


End file.
